gargouillis

gargouillis

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She walks quietly over the blue and deep ocean; she stands with her pale hands laying in her sad lap on a small and fragile bridge: the blood-ish sky mingles with the dark water and everything seems so futile and little and useless. She doesn't dare even taking a breath: those clouds could rolling down into her weak mind: she could not resist. So she looks at the horizon with teary eyes - wondering about something better - something brighter.

I was thinking about all the pretty things - and the sad ones too - people has taught me during these twenty and an half years; I've learned when tears should flush over my cheeks and when smiles should be painted on my lips; I've became were of the futility of life and the greatness of being on this world; I've been taught with books full of ancient words and brave cold-hearted heroes. But there is one thing I still am not able to do - and probably it's the silliest of all; there is one thing no one has ever explained me. How could I forget someone? How could I erase him from my memory? Does somebody know how to do it?

I'm lying on the bed, among quilted pillow and warm sheets, thinking about you and what could have been: if only I was not so keen on my emotions, If only you were not so damn stubborn. We could have everything and anything at the same right time. I'm lying here, on these empty mattress, whispering softly inside my own dreams. I haven't forgotten you and while the moon rises shining pale over the leaves, here I rest in a pensive mood, struggling in this summer solitude.

I perceive myself as a frazzled limb without end or begin; I start under the moonlight in the cold and fresh summer breeze; but I'm here, struggling my mind with uncounscios melancholia: I steel feel for you.

harm

Close the door behind your shoulder, darling, I do not want to see my naked dreams bleeding and aching around my pale wrists. I can not help my mind to stop weeping loudly in these empty walls - laments and murmurous echoing. Everything seems too huge, too untouchable, even for the shaking fingers of the imagination: I wish I had your breath beside me - all around me; your lovely words against the cold skin of my strained cheek; your hands firmly caressing my scars, pulling out the dagger from my pounding chest. But they are here, instead of you, and they scream and they shout and they are afraid. 'The first cut is the deepest' the last memory is the sweetest, the nightingale sings. (I am afraid too.)

Counted. My words are counted beneath my tongue and my fingers brush quietly and slowly their edges. Someone finds me my words - because I'm stammering and I've lost the meaning of things. My words are not mine anymore.

Drawing in this glass of bourbon: only this one, promise. Tomorrow is going to be a new day. a new chance; unique opportunity - tomorrow for sure but not tonight. I need something strong among these pale stars. Something heartless; I have to forget everything. "Pour me another one, please, you're a good man."

I see you rolling, waving and passing through the seasons with a delightful melancholic smile quickly painted on those red lips. I would be able to look at you for hours: you are blind, your heart does not beat furiously; you are so extremely calm, you are floating among silver clouds. The rush of the world, the emotions of life, doesn't take you breath away?

I am freezing, out here; I can barely feel my limbs badly shivering, trembling, cracking among this white, soft snow; the field is pure and spotless: no life - Am I still dreaming? - Everything is cold and empty; there is nothing even beyond my green eyes. Only silence and astonishment.

Tracking lovely men and strong women; bombs flying like golden butterflies through the clouds, through our collapsed breaths: an empty sky over us. Where are you? I can't see anything; are you beside me, darling? My eyes are full of ash and dust, my teeth chew prayers and invectives. Where are you? Please, don't leave me. Why us? Are we different from the other men and women just because we love someone else? Stay with me, darling. Stay with me. Stay.

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writing since 2013 · 53 entries · 51 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means gargouillis showed up.

7longest streak

51days written

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on this day 12 years ago

gargouillis wrote about terrain
“Lie down on the terrain; let your limbs float in the air, on the pavement, let them wave just like water waves. Be whatever you want to be. Be whoever you want to be; but keep swimming agains…”

the words gargouillis reaches for

eyeswordsdreamspalelovecoldmindbreathlettersagainstnowemotionslipstearslookinglonely